Good Bye
by Alice Rider
Summary: When Amon learn's Korra's biggest weakness is the firebender with the red scarf, he uses that to his advantage. Takes place in the future after Nick finally airs the big Makorra episode.


She wouldn't think about the consequences if she got there too late; she couldn't. She refused to let her mind slip down the dark passages that all showed nothing but the grim, depressing pictures of life without him. That was a cold stutter to her heart, the thought of life with no purpose. What if she was already too late? What if he was dea—

No, she wasn't allowed to think like that. Her teeth smashed down hard on her bottom lip, trying to get her mind focused on the physical pain of blood welling in her mouth, or her short, panicked gasps that burned as her lungs heaved for oxygen.

There was no air left; the narrow hallways of the fortress's labyrinth were a constricting snake, growing tighter as they coiled every which direction, leaving no room to breathe. Where was she even going? Hadn't she already been down this corridor?

Her careening feet skidded to a halt, no longer certain which way to turn as the beast split in two. She only had two options: left or right, dark or darker. Which way was it?

Her head whipped, the ghost of a muffled whisper tickling her ear. Had it actually been there, or was it her racing mind playing tricks on her senses? It didn't matter; a dying candle was better than being left to suffocate in the dark.

It was down the halls, down the halls, cutting each corner sharply, following the path the maze played out in front of her. Her feet had been moving so quickly for so long, she barely noticed when the twist and turns started leading up.

The staircase was a monster all its own, a daunting, cruel, cold, misshapen thing, an ever climbing, ever spinning loop that was going to swallow her whole. Her fears were creeping up behind her in a deadly silence, like hunting hounds, always at her heels, ready to attack; her legs were only the numb limbs attached to her, she was choking down the atmosphere in uneven pants, but she had to keep going; if her own mind caught up to her, she was a goner.

She hadn't noticed the dim, steadily growing lights up ahead, or the gaping mouth of the doorframe that emptied out into a spectacular rising courtroom worthy of a king's palace, or the heat brushing her skin; all her focus was directed at the boy, a red and grey blip on the horizon far above her chained to the wall. And that he was still alive.

He was weak, worn down, out of fuel and out of fire, but she could hear him groan, hear the chains echoing weakly off the grey block walls, hear his wheezing from utter exhaustion.

"Mako!" She almost though she'd never feel it again, the kick in her heart whenever she said his name; finding him alive gave her something like a burst of adrenaline that shot through her veins, down to her legs that started the long ascent to the throne-like perch where he stood.

"Hmm?" It was a slow realization that he had been gagged and couldn't form the words, and an even slower one to understand why he was shouting at her, shaking his head furiously towards the door which she'd come from; her feet slowed, the smile that had found its way to her face withered away.

It was a trap.

The world froze, the awful metal-on-metal shrieking bringing everything to an rigid standstill. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, a steady pendulum tick that marked the years that seemed to be flying by; it the beat of death walking among the living; if cruel fate had a face, it was the unfeeling, un-human white mask with the slanted, loathing eyes of the hooded figure who had appeared out of the walls with a human shadow close behind, the one standing an arm length's away from the one person who kept her sane.

"Avatar." It was the voice of impending demise that boomed all around her, made the blood rush to her head; it was a knife, a freezing assegai that burned, that stabbed at her where ever it could find a weak spot. "I've been expecting you."

"What do you want?" Where had her voice come from? She had been petrified for what seemed like ages; after looking doom in the face, she had been certain her voice had fled long ago.

The world was still around them, his hand raising up, an accusing finger jabbing at her. "I want you, Avatar."

Her teeth found her lips again, cold perspiration sliding down her temple. "Then what do I get, as a trade off?"

Something in those beady, soulless eyes glimmered, like a hungry cat playing with its food.

The one man convoy stepped up, the hilt of a wicked blade strapped to his side, a knife just waiting for havoc to retrieve it. Amon liked to watch the slow agony of suspense play out before him, the way a sharpened blade reverberated so hauntingly off the high walls; he liked the way human flesh bended so compliantly with hungry metal, the gut-wrenching despair that hung like clouds over them as the imminent death card came into play.

"In return, he keeps his life."

Tired brown eyes came alive with flames of rage, screaming protests behind the hindrance. It was a refusal, a defeated bender's plea for her to think of the aftermath of her actions for once in her life, to not act out the stupidity he could see playing in her eyes.

Her world had always hung on a balance, her entire existence had, it was a fact she neither acknowledged or ignored, a truth that was always there. But now the reason for her being, the weight that kept her balance steady, was shackled up with his demise against his throat. She didn't have a choice, did she?

"Hurry Avatar. My patience and his time are slipping away." He already knew what would happen, he'd played the scenario a million times over to make sure nothing could go wrong, that he hadn't missed a detail that would allow room for any kind of slip up. He just enjoyed watching her squirm.

Her lungs wouldn't expand for a breath, but her tongue still found the words to say it.

"It's a deal."

Though the countenance of the mask bore no change, there was a flash of something, a smug smirk of victory, in the demon's eyes that had just ruined her whole life.

"Wise decision." The vile dagger seemed to respond to those two words, disappearing back into its holster. There was a single snap, authoritative and absolute, that bounced off the walls in a jagged kind of reflection; the beast started coughing up guards.

"But you have to let him go!"

The cowled character, already half turned to leave, stopped to face the prize he'd plotted so long to win. "What was that?"

"You have to let him leave! I want to see him brought back to the city safe and alive." It didn't matter to her the rough hands grabbing at her arms, or the stinging in her eyes, she just had to have the one final certainty that Mako was going to be ok; maybe then she could tell herself that her efforts hadn't been in vain.

"And what do I receive if I let him free?" Even fiends could get curious, and this one was as greedy as they came.

"I won't fight. I won't try to escape. You can do whatever you want to me and I'll never struggle." She couldn't bear to meet the eyes of the boy screaming her name behind the muffle. "Just please. Send him home."

In his silence, she could count the heart beats between her ragged breaths. It was four beats, five beats, six beats, until everything inside her flipped in chaos; the anxiety was eating her alive.

"We have a deal." The boy in chains screamed some more. "Guards, untie him and escort him back to the city. But be careful. This is precious cargo to the Avatar." A sneer seemed to have come across the expressionless mask; a few men behind her snickered snidely.

"You." His finger pointed again towards her, but it was now more a teasing beckoning. "Come with me."

It was hard, climbing those last few steps to the man who now owned her life; her legs had gone stiff like the earth she controlled with them. And it broke her heart to walk past the contesting boy in restraints with nothing but a sad smile on her face and a silent "Good-bye," on her lips. The metal-on-metal clang behind her was the door shutting out everything that had once been good in her life.

She didn't quite care where he was leading her; his boots were the only guidance her body needed navigating through the abysmal couloirs while her mind endeavored to contain the flood of despair threatening to break forth.

He knew the route along the serpent, had conquered it long ago, it seemed. It was his pet, his monstrous defense. The beast had obscured the escape pathways, but its master knew the few lay hidden.

The air outside was thick, like she was drinking it rather than inhaling it; it didn't feel right hitting her lungs. The dense air put a heavy lump in her throat she couldn't quite swallow.

The battlement overlooked the towering trees huddled together around for miles on end around them. Her owner waved her closer to the edge, motioning downward at a rickety drawbridge and the old, beaten cart bumping its way across solemnly, that traveled its way down a weathered trail between the frosty trees.

There was a boy, sitting in the back, fidgeting under the weight of chains and guards, gazing up at Amon's monster, at the girl dressed in blue who stood silently on top.

"Korra!"

She flinched. Why had they removed the gag? Why in front of her? She might have been better off if she hadn't heard his voice say her name again, she might have been able to live with herself for giving up; there was no way to do that anymore.

"Korra!"

"How endearing." The man beside her was sarcastic, biting. "He actually cares." He paused without a word, eyes focused on his end of the deal fading into the woods, waiting for his Avatar to crack. "He'll get over it soon enough."

The scars on her lip were never going to heal properly. She couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe. Where was her voice now?

He spun her harshly to face him, her unsteady feet almost tripping over themselves. He pulled something around her neck, something red, something that smelled of soot and sweat, forcing her face closer to the white mask that his her master's face from the world. She was staring evil in the eye and she could do nothing about it.

"Now, where were we?" The sound that emanated from his throat was unnatural, grating, a malignant force laughing at the fate which it now held. "Guards, take the Avatar to her cell. There is work to be done."

The bearish fingers that marched her back into the bowels of the beast had no effect on the broken girl; her entire being was too transfixed on the fabric swaying around her neck.

Her hands gripped the red rag tight, bringing it closer to her face so she could try and drown in the memories it brought, so she could savor the last thing Amon left her with:

An old, worn out, torn up scarf.


End file.
